


bodies made from stars

by constellations (allyoop)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complete, Developing Relationship, Enterprise, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Grinding, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kobayashi Maru, Love, M/M, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:06:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyoop/pseuds/constellations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they've been dancing around each other; circling closer, but haven't yet touched.</p><p>///</p><p>A McKirk academy era fic; from their first meeting to their first kiss, with angst and love in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. counting stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when Bones and Kirk became Bones&Kirk, it was slowly and unsteadily

He was a professional. Steady hands and a heartbeat kept silent beneath steal and scars and pain. He doesn’t smile. Not because he cannot, but because he hasn’t had a reason worthy of it for years.

The other was a traveller. His hair was blown in a wind that didn’t exist; a wind made by the rush of his words and the lightning that crackled as he ran. He was always running and he never had warm hands to catch him when he fell.

They had nothing in common but constellations on their bodies and a future tied to the stars.

 

* * *

 

 

They met at their lowest, hands clenched and voices roaring, no one making a sound that could be heard. Wind-blown and broken-nosed, Jim knew a common soul when he saw one, and he took the flask with a nod and a smile that meant nothing and everything at once. Leonard, the man formerly known as Leo, tasted nothing in his alcohol. It was special brew he made himself, in the dark of night when only an empty picture frame kept him company. One part regrets, two parts brandy.

His eyes scrunched shut but his mouth kept moving, and Jim didn’t bother to pretend that he was listening. He leaned over, swiping the forgotten flask from his seatmate and catching the muttered words as they fell. Jim heard snippets, brief fragments of _Joanna_ and _why did I_ in between a Southern drawl and an audible sadness that made Jim frown. He thirsted to _know_ because maybe in that sadness he could finally voice his own. 

 

Jim was a contradiction and he wore it as a badge, much like his bright smile and bad-news wink. He would shrug when he got the highest score in class but ceaselessly flaunt when he scored a number at a bar. Bones, the man once known as Leonard, would unfailingly walk him home when his own legs failed and the pain Jim kept caged wiggled loose from it’s drunken guards. Bones has seen him cry and Jim will always resolutely deny the tears, but he’s grateful. Even when he wakes upside down with blurry vision in a room that isn’t his, and his friend had removed his shoes and left a glass of water by the bed. Jim would roll, quite literally, out of bed, taking Bone’s covers with him forming a moaning cocoon on the ground. Too loud to not be faking, to not want Bones to come to his side, even if it is just to jab in the general vicinity of Jim’s ribcage and voice loudly that he hopes Jim is dead. The mornings (or afternoons) when Jim plops on the floor with an exaggerated thump and doesn’t hear the responding footsteps, well, those are the worst.

It’s because of the migraines and the late morning light sneaking in between the curtains like a determined blinding ray. Absolutely nothing to do with silence in the room after Jim’s moans; the lack of echo a reminder of how alone he really was.

 

And he’s alone and he wants to be alone and he wants hands on his body and a mouth that screams his name like there is no other. He wants a voice, any voice, all the voices, to call his name over and over and maybe then he’ll start to feel that he is real. That he exists. That this is his life no matter how fucked up it seems or how fucked up he gets. That surge in his chest and the white at the edge of his eyes and a voice that screams “ _Jim!_ ” and he remembers where he is again.

He doesn’t cuddle. Jim never stays the night. He has enough fuel to live another day because he is _here_. He mattered in that moment, and yes, it was pleasure and nonsense and nothing but hormones, but in that moment he was someone’s everything and someone’s perfect thing and not a word on a page marked with red or a picture on a watch list.

 

Leonard wouldn’t stay when Jim was like this. Mumbling in his drunken sleep, pulling at his clothes like they strangled him. Leonard was strong and he was well trained, but some pain was too raw for him to watch over and over. The first time he stood leaning; half on the bed and half off, an indecisive guard to Jim’s unraveling. He didn’t try to hear what words were being said because it was a universal language. It was a guilt-tinged sadness and it was memories better left hidden somewhere that light cannot touch. It was everything too sharp to dull no matter how much Jim drank. And the more he drank the worse the nightmares were. Leonard never asked and never told; he never tried to comfort Jim. He couldn’t. His healing hands weren’t meant for a job like this.

 

Jim was proud, so fucking proud, and he bragged constantly to Bones. Every girl or guy or whatever in between. Every new position and new twist and new plaything. Bones would grump and grumble and tell Jim he didn’t want to hear. And Jim would keep at it, following him and whispering overly detailed accounts, watching the color rise and Bones’ movements get more erratic. He’d try to walk faster and Jim would just keep coming.

 

Jim wasn’t as forgetful as Bones might have thought. He didn’t remember details or words, but he remembered warm hands that check his pulse and a shadow that stood over him while he half-slept. He knew Bones stayed until he was sure Jim was asleep. Jim faked it once, to check.  
Bones stayed an hour more. And then he left.

 

Leonard wasn’t an idiot and he knew the smartass kid knew that. He knew they were circling around _something_ and Jim wanted it that way. He would lean in at the bar, all limbs and sweaty palms, thanking Bones for coming to pick him up. He’d breathe practically into his mouth as Bones swung an arm around him to lift him up. He’d smell all the alcohol; know just how drunk Jim was. But he was trying too hard to be convincing and Bones knew most of the smell was from spills on his shirt and not down his throat. Damn kid tries so hard to make a show, even for him, even after all these years.  
Bones shifts Jim against him, trying to get that halfway drunk lump to walk a little more on his own. This used to be easier when he was lighter, in their first year right off the shuttle. But they’ve been training, god knows Jim’s been logging hours and hours in the gym, and now Bones lugs a weight more equal to his own. He sighs as Jim trips again and crashes sideways into Bones’ neck; breathy laugh raising hairs under his collar. Bones pushes him upright, more forcefully than last. Game’s up but Jim keeps leaning closer. Why let a good thing go to waste?

Bones throws him unceremoniously onto the bed, eyebrows working twice as hard and his scowl reaching a new low. Jim’s reaching, grabbing, something telling him that the air is shifting tonight.

“It’s a full moon, Bones, lie down with me.”

“Jim, you’re drunk. _Again_. It’s a Tuesday and we both have exams soon.” He pulls away but he can’t go far.

“ _Bones_ , come here. It’s _your_ bed.” They meet eyes and Jim lets his drunken stupor melt away, lets the lies fall and his eye shine more earnest. Bones sits, awkwardly with limbs folded as small as possible on the farthest edge of the bed. Jim scoots down, bringing the sheets with him, and sits a little away from Bones. If he leaned a few more inches they’d be touching, but for now he waits.

“It’s your bed.” He repeats, still a little fuzzy around his senses, still forcing his breathing steady as he sobers up. “I always wondered where you slept when you let me stay here.” He didn’t have to look at Bones to know what that small scoff was indicating. Bones was blushing, surely, a pink tinge across his cheeks and his eyes steadfastly facing the other way. Jim has already memorized the tint of that flush and the angle his eyebrow jumps, but he’d like a reminder.

He closed the distance, bumping shoulders with Bones once, twice, forcing him to turn around with an exasperated look. Jim just smiled, feeling a little looser now that he could count the freckles that he liked so much on Bones’ nose. He told him so.

“I don’t have freckles, Jim. I’m pretty sure you’re seeing spots; let me get my medikit, I have a hypo for that-“

“You don’t have freckles; you have _constellations_.” Jim tugged hard, not playing anymore, forcing Bones back down to the bed. Ignoring the raised eyebrows and worried shape of his mouth, he tossed the covers across their shared shoulders, a cape of warmth although neither of them was cold. He felt the bed pitch a little, Bones slowly shifting his weight away so he could stand. Jim turned and reached across him, awkwardly perched on Bones’ knees, blocking his escape with his own body.

“Don’t, Bones.”

He met Jim’s fierce eyes with his own. “Don’t _what_. Don’t leave? Don’t stand? Don’t walk away? Jim, I have things I have to do other than-“ Jim leaned in, eyes closed and nose just lightly touching Bones’.

“Don’t talk. Just-“ he opened his eyes suddenly, fixing Bones with a look he couldn’t explain himself. “How can someone so afraid of space be made of so many stars?”

“-What?”

Jim pressed a light kiss to Bones’ nose. “One,” another kiss, “two.” There was a movement below him. Bones was trying to untangle from Jim’s body-lock without alerting him. It didn’t work. Jim pulled the covers tight, wrapping Bones into himself and cupping the back of his neck to keep him there. “Bones. I am _counting stars_.” He said it with such a gravitas that Bones laughed, real laughter; the kind that makes his face go crinkly and his shoulders feel a little lighter. Jim moved his hand from the back of his neck to his jaw, cupping it as he dropped a small kiss to the crinkle in the corner of Bones’ eye. “ _Three_.” The rolling laughter stopped and Jim forgot to breathe. Something was tight in his chest, his eyes transfixed on Bones’. Every muscle twitching and tense. He was effectively straddling Bones now; keeping him sitting on the bed with his body weight, sheets wrapped like an octopus, confining them. There was no space but the inch between their noses, yet there was too much space and Jim was shouting in his head, suddenly aware of himself and how he got here and how he didn’t ever ask. Bones wasn’t moving, why wasn’t he moving, why did Jim start this thing that now they cannot stop, why-

“ _Jim_ ” and he let out a breath too big, full of everything he had been holding, and Bones captured it when he met his lips, soft and wondering. Jim guided Bones’ face closer to his own, keeping it there, letting him know. He counted seconds, minutes, not letting them part, not even thinking about breathing until he couldn’t bear to hold his breath any longer.

Bones beat him to it, pulling away just to inhale shakily, one hand tracing small circles at the back of Jim’s head.

“ _Why_.”

“...Bones?”

“Why now?”

Jim kissed him fully, letting his tongue trace the words he couldn’t say aloud, letting his warm hands be the reassurance that Bones’ needed.

“Why not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a plan for a part II & III. Stay tuned & thanks for reading :)


	2. that familiar feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what if, what now, and what next?

He woke to pins and needles in his arm and the telltale blurriness of a hangover. Jim tried to roll over, but only succeeded in squishing himself further under the heavy pillow at his side. He heard a groan.

“ _Jim_. That’s my face you just smushed.”

 _Oh_. Everything from the night before rushed into focus in the morning light. He felt something tight unravel, remembering all the kisses and touches and the type of words he only had courage to say in the dark. His arm had been wrapped behind Bones’ back, keeping him anchored while he slept. Bones shifted his weight as he yawned, and Jim slipped his arm out from under him.

“It’s my revenge.”

Bones half opened his eyes. “Revenge for what?”  
  
“For always kicking me awake when I crash here.”

“One,” He tried to sit up, but Jim rolled onto him, keeping him down. “I never _kick_ you; I gently prod you. Big difference. And two,” Bones turned them around, pinning Jim. “This is _my_ bed. You can’t seek revenge on _my_ bed.” He may have been half-frowning, but it was damn near a smile and Jim was going to take advantage of it. He cupped the back of Bones’ neck, pulling him down to kiss the smirk off his face. Jim rubbed a hand up his shoulders and felt Bones relax a little, sinking down more onto the bed.

“You know, Bones, I’ve slept here enough that it’s sort of _my_ bed too.” He rolled his hips against Bones’, congratulating himself on the sharp intake of breath that resulted. “My bed, my rules.” 

“ _Jim_.” He could feel that familiar shiver up his spine at hearing his name. “It’s too damn early for this.” Bones tried to move away, but Jim threw a leg behind Bones’ to lock him in place. “So is what you said last night just bull? About wanting to wait until you were sober? So you could ‘ _remember every detail for future use_ ’?”

“Did I really say that?” Jim vaguely recalled whispering things into Bones’ neck in between kisses, but he couldn’t remember specifics.

“Why would I make that embarrassing stuff up? ‘ _Future use’_ , I mean c’mon Jim, nobody actually admits that, especially in the middle of a – a…” His usual sarcastic manner faltered, and Jim could detect a blush crossing his cheeks.  
  
“A makeout session? Sucking face? Tonsil hockey? Hitting second base?”

Bones gave him a glare as he detached himself from Jim. “That’s disgusting. I can’t believe I kissed that mouth. Also, we didn’t-“ He gestured between them. Jim gave him an honest-to-god leer.

“Not yet we didn’t.”

There was something in the pit of his stomach that his lascivious smile couldn’t quite hide. He grinned wider, hoping it’d distract from his eyes that Bones could read too well. It was so much easier to keep playing the part he’s used to, the part that people expect of him, than it was to try to put words to those wisps of feelings that have been haunting his edges when he was left alone with his thoughts. They were strong enough to pull him under if left alone too long.  
He traced his hands up Bones’ shoulders, feeling the muscles flexing, and forced himself back into the moment. He enjoyed the little shivers that elicited in their wake. Jim leaned forward letting his lips just ghost across Bones: hinting, promising.

“Don’t you have something better to do than torture me in my own room?” Bones’ words were more from habit than real exasperation and Jim knew he had won.  
  
“I’ve got all day, Bones. And you’re already on top of me, so why don’t we- oh shit.” He tried to sit up and bonked heads with Bones.  
  
“What the heck, Jim!? You switch gears faster than a-“  
  
“No time for metaphors, Bones. I totally forgot, I can’t believe I forgot-“ He rushed around the room, six different kinds of panic flashing inside him, searching for his shoes, his comm, his jacket. He turned back to the bed and paused midway through tying his shoe to just _appreciate_ Bones. Somehow he made wrong-side-of-the-bed look _good_ ; all wild hair and deep frown, with lips still tugged pink from kissing. Jim snapped out of it and finished lacing his boot and headed towards the door.

“I’m retaking the test today; wish me luck, _honey._ ” He opened the door blowing an exaggerated kiss towards Bones.  
  
“Test? You can’t be- the _kobayashi maru_?! You’re retaking that? Don’t you learn from anything- Jim! Where’re you going- aren’t you listeni-“ and Jim let the door slide shit on him mid-rant, fully knowing that Bones would be following him to the test center after throwing on his own shoes, yesterday’s clothes be damned.  


And he was right. It was unfathomable that Bones wouldn’t follow, despite what either would admit aloud. That was the ebb and flow of their relationship. Since they shared that flask on the shuttle, like a ritual that tied their lives together, they haven’t quite been able to be alone. If one was pulled down into the familiar empty feeling, the other would appear with a hypo or a reckless plan, and the white would retreat into colour again. It wasn’t a dependency; they’ve both travelled so far already on their own. But now routine days had more meaning and each breath felt counted, because there was someone else to share them.

Bones tried his best to flatten his hair while pouring his much-needed coffee, and ran from his room as calmly as he could.  So of course the first year cadets flattened themselves to the wall when he passed, knowing if Bones was running, someone was in trouble (or about to be).

Jim tossed him an apple when he arrived, winking. “Breakfast. ‘Cause I know you skipped it.” Bones resolutely refused to blush and tossed the apple back to Jim who just shrugged. Whatever comeback pursed on his lips was interrupted.

“James Tiberius Kirk. You are here to participate in the kobayashi maru. ”  
  
“Yup.” He said between bites. Bones rolled his eyes. It was clearly a rhetorical question.

Even the voice seemed a fraction more irritated. “This is your second trial. I will refrain from repetition, as you are surely aware of the rules. Your time begins,” There was an overly dramatic bloop. “ _Now_.”

There was a seeming lag in reaction; with a slow turn in the captain’s chair, Jim surveyed his crew, looking at all the waiting faces. He took another juicy bite. “Let’s punch it.” And the test began.

It was a strange out-of-body experience for Bones. He’d been there for the last test, going through all the same motions, and the pervasive sense of déjà vu was distracting. He watched Jim move, all contained fluidity in his chair. Like a chess master, he seemed floating just above the action, his voice the only prompt his team needed to move left or right. He was an addicting subject to watch, and even though it was all the same commands as the last time, Bones still couldn’t look away from Jim. He had to admit, even if he never tells Mr. Inflated Ego himself, that Jim has the makings of a fine captain. He carried himself with that edge of confidence (Bones called it _cocky_ ) and that air of knowing that made people trust him even when he was acting from pure instinct. Jim caught his eye, as if he sensed Bones’ thoughts, and took a huge bite from his apple, licking the juice drips from his lips with slow purpose. Bones’ raised his eyebrow to convey _focus, you idiot_ and turned back to his work. Not that he had any. He was only here as a formality; the simulation rarely required the use of a medical officer on the bridge since no one _really_ gets hurt during the kobayashi maru. But Jim had wanted him aboard. And just like last time, Bones couldn’t say no.

Something different began to happen. They were down to the wire and approaching the point where everyone usually fails. Jim sat relaxed and smiling, no tell tale signs of stress or fatigue, nothing to indicate that he even noticed all the flashing red lights and klaxons. Bones frowned. Even Jim, always treading the very edges of cliffs, should be showing _some_ tiny indicator of fear. After all, isn’t that what this test was for?

And then it was over. The beeps and whirrs stopped and everyone’s breathing seemed loud in the anti-climatic moment. Jim smiled in the direction of the observation window and leapt to his feet, a walking definition of carefree. He spared just a moment to look back at Bones, the stance of his body tilted, waiting. It wasn’t a question; it was a habit.

Bones followed.

 

They got as far as the path to the dorms before Jim burst. “Bones!” He half-tackled him, half-hugged him, knocking them both sideways to bump into the building. “Did you _see_ that? Were you watching me?”

“Kid, you’re an asshole. You practically made out with a piece of _fruit_ in an attempt to keep me watching.”

“Did it work?” Jim snaked a hand up Bones’ side, lifting his shirt a little. The contact set off a domino fall of memories, his skin still tingling with the touches of last night.  
  
“Jim, we’re outside-“ Bones started but Jim cut him off, changing his position so that his arm rested across his shoulders, leading them both down the path.

“I knew I’d do it this time. First time wasn’t even my fault; I would have passed it if they didn’t rig the test. I’m brilliant and so I knew-“ Bones let him ramble. There wasn’t real substance behind his words anyways. It was all a vocal rush of adrenaline, the high of success that Jim always seemed to ride on. His hands roamed, keeping their safe position on shoulders, arms, back, but they flickered, resting only to punctuate his words and to prod Bones left or right. He was twisted between thankful and hateful for each brief touch. Jim’s hands felt electric, igniting Bones’ skin one patch at a time, leaving him covered in a trail of Jim’s light. His body remembered last night too closely, and even just a hand resting friendly on his shoulder was enough to spin his head full of _what if_ and _what else_ and _what next_. Bones, paying the littlest attention to where his feet were leading, was surprised to find himself outside of Jim’s quarters and not his own.

Jim grinned. “My bed, my rules.”

Bones’ shivered, hating the kid for making him feel like an overeager teenager again.

The door had barely slid shut and Jim’s lips were already on Bones’, a sense of ownership emanating from the grip of his hands and the heat of his mouth.

“Just because you think-“ Bones gasped out “you’re a _captain_ now.”  
  
Jim laughed into his neck. “I don’t ‘think’. I _am_. Didn’t you see me win?” Bones felt a tug at his waistband. “Flying colors. Perfect score. Why would they say no?”

Bones could only let out an undignified “Mmmph,” as Jim’s hand palmed his cock through his boxers, exploring.

“Oh, nice.” Jim smiled at him, his pupils blown. “I mean, I had guessed-”

“What?” Bones tried not to blush, wondering when Jim had _looked_. His question was met with an open mouthed kiss and Jim’s hand working faster.

“Remember when I got so drunk you pulled me into the shower to wake me up?”

“It wasn’t to wake you up; it was to wash off that vodka facial you earned by being too forward.”

“Semantics. But you took off most of your clothes along with mine so you wouldn’t get them wet, right?”  
  
“Dammit Jim, you were _passed out_ how could you possibly-“  
  
“I wasn’t completely out. And I sure remember looking up at you from the bathroom floor, you in nothing but underwear, water dripping from your arms as you waited for the shower water to warm up…” He twisted his hand, making an embarrassingly loud groan escape Bones’ lips. “A memorable sight.”

“Well I’m glad you enjoyed yourself - _Jim!_ ” Another moan. “You drunk fool.”

Jim kissed his way down Bones’ jaw, sucking at a sensitive spot on his neck. “I’m not a fool, _old man_. But if I see something I want-“ Jim pulled his hand out his pants, and Bones immediately missed the contact, his hips canting forward to re-find that friction. Jim gripped his hips, and ground against him, too slow and too fast all at once. Bones felt the back of his head hit the wall and he didn’t even remember moving, but his hands were on Jim’s ass, pushing him forward, harder.

“Jim, I- I want-“

“Say my name.”

“ _Jim_. I haven’t- I’m not going to-“

Jim chuckled, the menace, and rolled his groin painstakingly slow. “Been a while, huh?” Bones tugged his hair sharply in retaliation, sucking hard at Jim’s clavicle, trying to turn the tables. Jim moaned against him and in that moment of distraction Bones reversed them, pinning Jim against the wall.

“I prefer,” he spoke between hard nips at his neck, “ _quality_ over quantity.”

“Those are the words of the rarely laid, _oh!_ ” Bones had snuck a fast hand up Jim’s shirt, and raked it down slowly, making Jim buck forward and meet Bones’ groin with his own.

“What was that you said, _kid_?” Jim was under his thumb now. Bones was using all his best moves, keeping his hips rolling against Jim, one hand on his ass and one playing with his nipples, hitting all of Jim’s sensitive spots and making his knees shake.

“I have a bed.”

“Oh?” Bones had gotten some of his breath back and was enjoying watching Jim be the one to unravel. “You use mine so often, I thought you had gotten rid of yours.”

“My bed, my rules.” Jim reinforced weakly.

Bones stopped moving, just pressing his whole body into Jim’s, their hard cocks rubbing together. “ _That’s_ not going to happen.” He whispered darkly into his ear.

“Who’s commanding _now_ , huh?” Jim laughed shakily, throwing a leg around Bones’ hips and groaning at the changed angle of friction. Bones’ head fell forward into Jim’s neck.

“You’re right. _Bed_.”

Jim’s response was a high-pitched beeping noise and whir. Startled, Jim almost lost his balance.

“The fuck is that?”

“It’s coming from _you_ Jim.”

“I’m not getting it. It’s my comm.”

“Jim. What if-“

He pulled Bones back into a hungry kiss. The beeping continued.

“That’s really distracting. Can’t you-“ Without moving from Bones, Jim fetched his comm from his back pocket and threw it across the room. He pushed Bones backwards towards the bed, fucking his mouth with his tongue, hands finding their way back into his pants.

A new sound started, filling the whole room with an incessant beeping, demanding to be answered.

“Jim, you really have to-“ He turned them suddenly; reaching over Bones to hastily hit a button on the wall.

“What do you want?” he barked.

“James Tiberius Kirk. You are called before the Starfleet Academy Court to stand trial to your actions regarding your performance during the kobayashi maru, today on Stardate-“ Jim punched the wall, cutting off the detached robotic voice.

“Fuck.” He leaned into Bones, letting his head fall heavily onto his shoulder. He was still hard, still _wanting this_ , wanting _more_. But his life wasn’t fair. “ _Fuck_.”

Bones stood there, arms circling Jim, not sure want to do other than kiss the top of Jim’s head. He had a bad feeling about this.

“Between a rock and a hard place.” Jim chuckled dryly against his chest. “At least my dress uniform is clean.”

“Let me help. Go clean yourself up.” Jim trudged off to his restroom, leaving Bones alone and cold, to sift through the closet until he found his red uniform. He flipped on the closet light, and the pressed edges seemed harsh and sharp. He couldn’t imagine Jim Kirk, everything liquid, donning something so stiff. But he did. Bones let his professionalism and steady hands take over, helping Jim button up the uniform, picking off a stray piece of lint as he did so. It took Jim minutes, which is more than usual, for him to piece his composure back together. He brushed Bones hands away, finishing the buttons himself. He stepped back and looked in the mirror, Bones’ face a pale ghost behind him. Jim wore his uniform like armor, letting it define his edges, and rising to meet them. He squared his shoulders and Bones could see him thinking, eyes flashing even as he formed his face into a determined mask. The air in the room felt explosive.

“Jim.” He placed a hand on his shoulder, letting it linger, letting his warmth breathe back into Jim and remind him. His presence filled Jim’s horizon and his face defrosted enough to smile at Bones in the mirror.

“I know.”

 

And he was off, feet carrying him into a battle, Bones’ promise to meet him there still ringing in his ears. Bones had sealed the words with a kiss, and Jim felt himself subconsciously pressing a finger to his lips as he waited outside the main hall. He felt like a knight who had been given a token of luck. But even those rosy thoughts couldn’t drown out the sound of ice crackling in his head, a cold fire rising in him, roaring and screaming. He sat there tense, trying to breathe through the knot in his throat. He had won; he had done _exactly_ what they wanted.

Then why did he feel so much like he _lost_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this! Apologies this one was so late; real life hit me like a steamroller and I've been pretty buried.
> 
> Hope you read and enjoy!


	3. the end or the beginning

They sent Kirk in before he felt he had a chance to really breathe. He slathered on his best bravado and strutted to the raised platform in front of the jury of admirals, dressed in somber black and deep frowns. To the side of Kirk was a veritable sea of red; every single cadet in Starfleet was settled into risers, as if his academic hearing was a spectator sport. Everything about it screamed _Very Big Deal_. Jim couldn’t smile, even as a feint; it didn’t sit right across his lips. If they wanted this to be a sport, well then he’ll be the gladiator they want to see fight. He was determined to come out of this alive.

A throat was cleared and Jim turned his attention to the admiral in the middle of the semicircle. ”This session has been called to resolve a troubling matter regarding the behavior of Cadet James Tiberius Kirk.” He addressed the cadets behind Jim and it clicked in his mind. They wanted to make an example of him. He looked across the crowd, letting them see him but not his emotions. He was stone, he was unmovable; he would not be pushed. Bones caught his eye. He looked worried; his face open and honest, easily read even from this distance. Jim quickly turned away. Bones looked like he was caught in the fear of the future, of what Starfleet would be without Jim Kirk. He recognized that look, for Jim had thought about it himself. What would he be without Starfleet? What would he be without his Bones?

The council leader continued to speak, this time directly to Jim. “Cadet Kirk, evidence has been presented to this council suggesting that you violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to Regulation 17.43 of the Starfleet code.” He gave Jim a significant look, ripe with disappointment. “Is there anything you would care to say before we begin, sir?”

This was his chance. If he were to be strung up and kicked out, he wouldn’t do it without fighting back. “Yes, I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly.”

A man, no a _Vulcan_ , stood up. He was in all black, intimidating and unmoving, shoulders straight even as Kirk sent him a badly disguised glare of confusion and anger. He looked vaguely familiar, but Jim was still left in the dark of what he had ever done to piss this Vulcan off.

“This is Commander Spock.” The admiral continued to speak. “He’s one of our most distinguished graduates. He has programmed the kobayashi maru exam for the last four years.”

“Cadet Kirk,” Spock began, facing him with a blank stare. “You somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine in the programming code, thereby changing the conditions of the test.”

“Your point being?” Jim looked directly at Spock, keeping his face just as clean of emotion as the Vulcan.

“In academic vernacular, you _cheated._ ”

He could feel the murmurs grow, sounding louder to his heated ears. Jim knew he wasn’t truly guilty, not in the way Starfleet saw him. This test was impossible and it was designed to be unbeatable. But there was no such thing as an impossible mission; there couldn’t be, he didn’t believe in that.

“Let me ask you something I think we all the answer to.” Jim let bravado refuel his words. He was right; he _knew_ he was right. “The test itself is a cheat, isn’t it? You programmed it to be unwinnable.”

“Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario.” 

“I don’t believe in no-win scenarios.” And there it was, his truest deepest belief. If he could still move just one finger, if there was still a final breath left in him, Jim would always _try_. He refused to ever let a crew member die or a ship fall, not if he knew he had even the slightest possibility to prevent it. Why did no one else see this point? Why did no one else see how inherently wrong it was to just lie down and give up, even in just a simulated test, when they were the only hope for a ship that needed rescuing?

“Then not only did you violate the rules, you also failed to understand the principal lesson.”

Jim felt his eyebrows shoot up a little, before he could resume his determined mask. _What the hell was this bastard talking about?_ “Please, enlighten me.”

“You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk, a captain cannot cheat death.” Spock paused, letting his words drop in the silence of the room, all the whispers from the cadets now hushed. Jim didn’t want to stay quiet; he wanted to roar. _How dare he use his own father against him?_ He took a short steadying breath, trying to calm his mind because _Spock wasn’t worth his rage_.

“I, of all people?” 

“Your father, Lieutenant George Kirk, assumed command of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not?”

If Jim hadn’t been in front of all his peers and mentors of the entirety of Starfleet, he would had let all his real sarcastic venom slide into his words. He tried to keep himself in check. He failed.

“I don’t think you like the fact that I beat your test.” He sounded like a petulant child, even to his own ears, but it still felt true. He had to say something, _anything_ to try to counter Spock’s cold barrage against his academic character and his most personal beliefs.

“Furthermore, you failed to divine the purpose of this test.”

“Enlighten me again,” he hissed.

“The purpose is to experience fear,” and Spock seemed to smile, a slight turn up of his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was gloating; he felt he had won. “To accept that fear, and to maintain control of oneself and one’s crew. This is a quality expected in every Starfleet captain.”

Kirk shifted involuntarily, looking down briefly, trying to keep himself focused even as the stories of George Kirk’s last day flashed in his mind. Laced with every praise he heard about his father was the sinking feeling that Spock’s unspoken assumption was correct. He was very much _not_ his father. He had failed the kobayashi maru and then he had failed again when he passed. Jim could hear, no matter how much the logical side of his brain struggled, the whispers that filled the room and echoed every doubt he had and every real fear that haunted his mind. _He would never be a captain_. What did Spock know about true fear? Jim didn’t fear death; he feared _ending_. He feared falling into darkness, a name that meant nothing but the echo of someone else’s good deeds. He feared shadow and he feared silence; and most all he feared being forgotten.

Just as he steeled himself up for round two, a messenger ran in, holding out a comm with a taut expression across his face. The admiral took the comm from him and worry furrowed his eyebrows.

“We’ve received a distress call from Vulcan.”

And there it was. The stone demeanor of Spock broke with a small flash of very human fear across his face.

“With our primary fleet engaged in the Laurentian system, I hearby order all cadets to report to hangar one immediately. Dismissed.”

The cadets filed out in lines, backs straight like soldiers. And that’s what they felt like; the scent of battle, even one still unannounced, hung heavy in the air. It smelled like terror and loss.

They called out assignments; friends smiling when they’re shipped off together, people hugging when they depart. Jim strained to listen from the back of the crowd. They go from _Kirby, Valerie_ to _Kishimoto, Masa_ without a _Kirk, James T._ in between. He gnashed his teeth and waited, hoping for a miracle in the form of a clerical error. But they go through all the K’s and through all the rest, and no Kirk is called. He felt a seething rage bubbling, like all the anger from his trial in front of Starfleet was being displaced into this one moment. He elbowed, with more force than necessary, through the crowd of naively bright-eyed cadets and Bones caught one look at Jim’s eyes and immediately followed him. 

“Commander? You didn’t call my name. Kirk, James T.”

“You’re on academic suspension. That means you’re grounded until the Academy Board rules.” Jim watched, almost incomprehensibly, as the commander walked away not even giving Kirk a chance to talk. There was no budging or wiggle room this time. He felt still, too still, as the crowd around him bustled and moved, boarding ships and saying farewells.

“The board will rule in your favor. Most likely.” Bones tried a wry smile, but it fell flat in the moment. Jim looked at him blankly, almost not seeing his friend in front of him; he was so caught up in his own head. Bones' lips kept moving and Jim didn’t really comprehend, but he stuck out his hand at the right moment anyways.

“Yeah, you go. Be safe.” And they chastely shook hands. Because they were surrounded by peers who didn’t know. Because Jim was still stuck in the quagmire chaos in his mind. Because neither one knew what to say. They shook hands because what else could they do? Bones was going to board a ship into disease, darkness, and silence, and Jim would be left grounded on an Earth that doesn’t want him, trapped in his own dark.

The handshake was a moment short of a handhold, but Jim’s eyes, seeking clarity in Bones’ own, held his gaze long after their hands fell back. Bones walked away, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to shake off this feeling of _utter loss_.

He didn’t get very far. Bones cursed under his breath, knowing his mind was already made up, knowing it’s been finalized for years. He wasn’t going anywhere without Jim.

“Come with me.” And he was the one leading for once, pulling Jim into an empty medical bay and into the unknown. Bones rummaged through the vials and tubes, telling Jim he couldn’t leave his pathetic ass behind, the _I need you_ left hanging in the air unsaid. He stuck a hypo in him before Jim could react.

“What was that for?” Jim exclaimed, rubbing his neck, the sharp pain knocking him back to the present.

Bones pressed a finger to Jim’s lips and smiled. “Do you trust me?” Jim reached up, hoping to steal a kiss, but Bones wasn’t having it. “You’re going to start to lose vision in your left eye.”

Panic set in and Jim tried to squish it down because this was _Bones_ and Bones would never. But he could feel his blood stirring and his body heating up, along with a frightening white blooming in his left eye. Bones wrapped an arm around him, half reassurance and half to keep Jim standing up and walking as the symptoms hit him full swing.

They were stopped at the entrance of the Enterprise, a commander acting like a bouncer and refusing to let Kirk aboard.

Bones drew himself up to his full height, or as best as he could manage with the weight that is a sick Jim pulling at his side. “Medical code states that the transport of a patient is to be determined by his attending physician, which is _me._ ” He let the commander have the patented full McCoy glare. “Or would _you_ like to explain to Captain Pike why the Enterprise warped into a crisis without one of its _senior_ medical officers onboard?” The guy looked terrified and he let them pass rather than pick a fight. Bones wanted to feel bad, but he had no thoughts to spare. There was an overheated Jim looking queasy on his arm and they were flying godknowswhere to do godknowswhat. In _space_. Bones should have felt that familiar fear spike in his gut, but he didn’t. Looked like Starfleet taught him something after all.

“That was _hot_.” Jim managed to gurgle out as Bones strapped him into the shuttle seat. “You should command more often. Like in the bedroom.” 

Bones cupped his jaw, feigning checking his temperature. “Shut up.” And he did. Mostly because Jim felt if he opened mouth again, he would puke. He shared this thought with Bones who just laughed. It was déjà vu of the strangest kind, like Jim and he had switched places. He clasped Jim’s sweaty hand, not even pretending it was for a medical reason anymore, and pointed out the window.

It was beautiful. The space dock and all her ships glittered, reflecting the light from the sun, flashing silver and gold into the cadets’ watching eyes. It was _hope_. What could possibly withstand Starfleet’s finest, these sleek mammoths full of 400 of the brightest and best?

Bones raised their joined hands to his lips, sending Jim promises through his eyes. If he could fly into space and feel these silver ships give him hope, then they could do _anything_.

And they’d do it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this sitting around finished but not posted for way, way too long. My apologies! But hey, its here now :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are deeply appreciated as always!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) Comments and kudos are super appreciated.


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